Can this really be the end?
by 221Bwholockian
Summary: A story of John after the fall, and how he will be three years later when Sherlock returns. A story of Friendship and hurt. more of a John/Sherlock friendship story...might change to Johnlock later on. Post-Reichenbach fall. Rating is debatable...mainly precautionary. :)
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One.

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Smile, though your heart is aching

Smile even though it's breaking

When there are clouds in the sky,  
You'll get by If you smile,  
Through your fear and sorrow

Smile, and maybe tomorrow

You'll see the sun come shining through

For you

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The day was a dark and gloomy day, with promise of rain. The weather seemed to fit the days activities.'This can't be the end of Sherlock, it can't be. He's to cleaver for this. He has to be faking it,_ he has to be_!' John's mind was all over the place as he walked to the grave of his best fiend-Sherlock Holmes-to meet Mrs. Huston. 'God Sherlock! How could you do this to us! you selfish** BASTARD**! Did you even think of us? Even Lestrade, Sherlock! Even Lestrade is in denial!' It has been a week since the small funeral. only Mrs. Huston, Lestrade, and himself were present. Mycroft has not been heard from since that horrible day, The day John tries not to think of.

"Oh John, this can't be real!" Mrs. Huston sobbed when John reached her at the grave. "I miss him terribly! His experiments, the shooting at the wall..."

"I know Mrs. Huston, I know." He had to interrupt her rambling or he was going to lose it! "I miss him too."

"How can he do this us? How John? We could have helped him!"

"I don't know, Mrs. Huston, I don't know." He had nothing else to say, to anyone.

They stood in silence for another five minuets before Mrs. Huston left. John stared at that black marble headstone, wallowing in the memories they had together. The cases Sherlock solved, the nights he woke to find him talking to his skull, and all the times Sherlock would ramble on about how idiotic everyone else was, including John-he tried not to take offence- these memories hunted him at night. The nights were the worst, contently waking up, and walking into Sherlock rooms hoping he's there sleeping.

"Sherlock, _Why?_ I know you were lying, I know it! You ar-were the most clever person I knew." John was talking to Sherlock's headstone as if it was actually him. "Yo...you saved my life. I know you would never agree with me, but you did! After Afghanistan I was lost, I had no one. I could hardly believe you would even want me as a flatmate. I was shocked when I saw you in that lab, the way you found all that out about me, just by a few minor details. Things that could not be found online, I know I looked myself up. There was hardly anything about me!"

He took a breath as rain started to fall. " You were that cleaver, you were... I don't care what the papers say, you are a not fake. Sherlock, please I need you! I NEED YOU! PLEASE SHERLOCK..._please...please. _Do it for me. You were my best friend, my...my only friend. You... you told me once that you weren't a hero. But guess what, Sherlock. You _ARE_ a hero to me! no matter what they say, _I_ know the truth. I'm asking for one more miracle, Sherlock, for me. DON'T. BE. DEAD!" John shouted the last part out of rage and sorrow. It was raining harder now. John knew if he stayed at the grave any longer he would get He turned away from the grave and walked to the street to get a cab. When he walked pasted the gazebo at the front of the cemetery, he thought he saw a tall, slender shadow watching him from inside. The shadow looked a lot like Sherlock, but John knew that could not be true. Sherlock was dead!

Little did John know, It was just a magic trick, Sherlock was not dead. He was standing in the gazebo in the cemetery. He was that shadow John saw, and he did hear everything John said, and it broke his heart to hear his friend in pain. Because contrary to what people believe Sherlock does care and he does have feelings.

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**A/N: What do you think? It's my first FanFic. **


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

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Sherlock stood in the gazebo watching John walk to the street to catch a cab back to 221B. When the cab drove away, Sherlock walked over to 'his grave' and pulled out his phone.

"Mycroft." He said into the phone "I want er..need you to keep an eye on John for me."

"Why is that Sherlock?" Mycroft replied.

"He doesn't seem to well..." Sherlock paused and look back to road where John got into the cab.

"Sher..."

"MYCROFT!" He snared into the phone, drawing attention to himself, so he lowered his voice and added, "Just look after him untill I get back... please."

"all right, all right. I was..." Sherlock hung up on him. He never liked asking his older brother for favors, but he had to this time. He put his phone back into the pocket of his coat, turned his collar up and walked away from his grave. The rain wetting his black, curly hair to his forehead.

'Don't worry Sherlock, it will only take a few weeks to track down Moriarty's minions then you can go back to 221B Baker street and life can get back to normal.' Sherlock thought as he made his way across the cemetery.

"The games afoot." he said to himself. The wind was starting to get stronger, blowing his coat back and the rain into his face. Not that he cared, the only thing he cared about right now was finishing Moriarty's minions, getting back to London and back to being alive.

He never imagined it would take three years.

**three years and four days after that horrible day, the day they never talked about. **

Lestrade stop at 221B Baker street to visit John and Mrs. Huston as he always did on Fridays.

"You still have that skull he use to talk to." Lestrade stated nodding toward the skull upon the mantel, as he walked into the flat. The skull Sherlock told John was his friend. The skull John replaced. The skull John now talks to at night when he wakes up with horrible nightmares.

The flat hasn't changed remotely at all in the past three years. Even that stupid yellow smiley face Sherlock shot at when he was bored. John wanted to paint over that thing or at least paint a frown on it. but he couldn't bring himself to do that, because it reminded him of Sherlock.

The only things that did change was John moved into Sherlock's old room, and there was no body parts or specimens anywhere in the flat, and John missed that, Hell he missed everything that Sherlock had done.

"Couldn't bring myself to get rid of it." Mrs. Huston replied with a sad tone as she walked in with tea for Lestrade, John and herself. "None of it." they all looked around remembering the great man that died three years ago.

The table in the kitchen still cluttered with chemistry equipment, the book shelves still filled with many books collecting dust, Sherlock's desk still cluttered with case files from the yard and his computer, even his violin and sheet music in front of the window. The flat looked as though Sherlock would come barging in rambling on about something or other that none of them could understand. Yeah, none of them could forget that magnificent man that left the world too soon. It seemed like everything-even the smallest thing-would remind them of Sherlock. and they were okay with that. None of them wanted to forget Sherlock.

" I miss him." Lestrade said as he accepted the tea from Mrs. Huston. "You know the solving rate at the yard has fallen quite low now that he's..." He stopped talking after the look John gave him.

John was about to say something when there was a knock at the door. A sad, quiet knock that they could barely hear over the roar of the fire keeping them warm.

"Who could that be this late?" Mrs. Huston exclaimed. "I'll be right back." She got up, tea in hand, walked down the stairs, and open the door.

When the door opened, the tea cup fell to the floor with a crash, shattering on the floor sending tea and glass shards all over, She could not believe her eyes. The man who was standing on the front stoop of 221B Baker Street should be buried in the cemetery, not standing in front of he smiling.

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**A/N: Let me know if you like it!**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

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Sherlock was staggering along the sidewalk of Baker Street, To anyone who saw his silhouette in the night might have thought he was a drunk man walking home after a night at the pub. When he finally reached the door of 221B he felt like he was going to pass out. The only thing that kept him going-as it always has been-was seeing John and Mrs. Huston. He knocked on the familiar door, he hardly thought it was loud enough for anyone to hear, but he didn't have the energy to knock again. As he stood waiting for the door to open he had to lean a hand against the building for fear of falling over.

When the door finally open he had just enough energy to smile at Mrs. Huston, who dropped her tea. He would have asked if she was alright if his mind didn't go fuzzy, the world around him went black and the floor rushed up to him. Sherlock fell to the floor with a thud. Mrs. Huston backed up to the wall out of shock and to get out of the way of the fall consulting detective.

"J..J...JOHN!" Ms. Huston yelled

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John and Lestrade heard the shattering of the tea cup, and the bigger thud that followed.

"What the hell was that?!" Lestrade jumped out of his chair and rushed to the door, ready to open it and see what the commotion was.

"wait, Greg." John stopped him "I...I think you should wait up here in case we need the police." Lestrade nodded and movie away from the door, but not to far in case John and Mrs. Huston needed him. John put his cup on the coffee table, stood up, and walked out the door of the flat to Mrs. Huston.

"Mrs. Huston, are you okay?" He called down the stairs, his voice full of concern.

"Yess... " Her voice was shaky and she sounded frightened.

John started down the stairs. when he reached the bottom he could not believe what or who he saw. A man that died three years ago lying on the floor in shattered glass and tea struggling to get up. His face bloody, battered and bruised. His black, curly hair matted with blood and now tea. His black coat was torn, and his blue scarf missing.

"Sh..Sher...Sherlock" John couldn't believe his eyes. The man who died three yeas ago, the man he missed dearly, the man who was he best friend, No, his only friend, was lying on the floor in a lot of pain judging by the moaning coming from him.

"...uggg...mmmh...uuufff..." Sherlock was trying to get up. He rolled over so he was lying on his stomach, moved his hands so they were above his head, his elbows bent at the side of his head. Cutting his hand of the broken tea cup as he moved it on the floor. He used his hands to push his torso up, so he could see John and Mrs. Huston. "mmmhggr..JJJJOH...uuufg" His hands slipped out from under him, due to lack of strength he fell back to the floor. Sherlock tried to get up again but John was next to him, forcing him to stay on the floor.

"Sherlock, stop trying to move, you'll just end up hurting yourself...more." John was in full Doctor mode, wanting to get Sherlock out of the pain he was in. "LESTRADE! get down here!"

As soon has Lestrade herd John call him he came running down the stairs fearing the worst. "Is everything okay? Mrs. Huston are you..." he trailed off when he reached the landing, then he saw who John was kneeling next to. "That's Sherlock!" he said out loud. He saw the state Sherlock was in and heard the moans of pain escaping from the consulting detective. "Oh God, is he okay? what happened?"

"I...I don't know... I opened the door and he was just standing there." Mrs. Huston explained what happened " he was just standing there smiling, I couldn't believe it! I was shocked! I dropped my tea and then he just collapsed! oh dear! Sherlock! Is he going to be okay, John?"

John was began to examine Sherlock. "God Sherlock what were you up to?" He asked to no one in cringed at the thought of what happened to his friend. "It looks like he's been beaten." He cringed even more when Sherlock started clenching his fist, and moaning in pain.

"Mycroft." Sherlock gasped, eyes wide, startling John. "Mycroft?" it was a question this time as if Sherlock didn't know where he was or who was around him. John was starting to get really worried, Sherlock was not acting anything like the Sherlock he knew, before all of this-whatever this is-happened. John really wished Moriarty was still alive, so he could see him behind bars or better yet so he could kill him.

"Greg, take Mrs. Huston upstairs. Then come back down here, please." John instructed.

Lestrade turned to Mrs. Huston and he put a hand on her shoulder "Come on Mrs. Huston, lets go up stairs." As they walked up the stairs back to the flat, Lestrade turned back and watched John care for Sherlock.

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**A/N: I like how this chapter turned out. Tell me what you think. Your reviews keep me going!**

**I really like snow days...gave me a chance to finish this chapter :)**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

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John was kneeling next to Sherlock trying to get a better look at his injures, but Sherlock kept trying to get up. _'What the hell were you up to Sherlock? Why do you want to get a hold of Mycroft? Where has Mycroft been the last three years? Did he know Sherlock was alive?'_ John kept asking himself the same questions over and over again, but the main question he wanted to ask Sherlock was how in the world did he fake his death, he saw him jump off the roof of the hospital, he saw him laying on the pavement, he felt his pulse or lack of one._ 'He had no pulse. He was dead! But if he's dead, then how is he laying here?'_ John's mind was all over the place, But before he could could ask Sherlock any of these questions He would have to wait until Sherlock was in a good enough shape to talk. His mind started to ask more question_ 'Does Molly know he's alive? Why would she? it's not like Sherlock cared for her like that, did he? If Sherlock is still alive...is Moriarty? No he can't be. he shot himself. there's no way... is there?'_ John was pulled out of his thoughts when he heard Sherlock asking for Mycroft again.

"Sherlock...Sherlock, it's John. Mycroft isn't here." Sherlock was struggling to get up again and John could tell that he was getting upset." You need to stay laying down, Okay? I don't know the extent of your injuries and I'm not so sure that you do, so just stay on the floor. If you get up you could hurt yourself even more. You need to calm down. getting angry is not going to help you either. okay? Stay down and calm down."

" Imm calm" Sherlock groaned and stopped struggling. He knew John was right...he didn't know how bad his injuries are. John noticed that Sherlock looked tired, as if he hasn't slept in a long while. "ne...need ta ca...call hm." Sherlock was drifting into unconsciousness._ 'That's not a good idea, Sherlock.'_

"Oh no you don't! Sherlock, listen to me! listen to me, you have to stay awake, okay? come on! Sherlock. Stay. Awake!" John ordered. but Sherlock didn't listen, and fell unconscious on the floor. "Damn it Sherlock, you listen real well." John could not believe that he was kneeling next to Sherlock. Part of him thought this was just another dream, but he knew-_dream or not-_that he needed to help Sherlock. John looked up when he heard Lestrade coming down the stairs.

"Mrs. Hudson said that she was going to go to bed." Lestrade told John when he reached the bottom of the stairs. "Good God, Sherlock's alive. Who the hell did this to him?"

"I don't know, but when I find out, I'm going to kill them!" He looked up at Lestrade, John's eye's burning with rage and confusion.

"John, I want to do the same looking at him, it makes me want to kill the lot that did this, but both you and I know that's not the answer for this. When he's better, we'll get his statement down at the yard and we'll arrest the people who did this. No need to go and get yourself in trouble with the law, I think Sherlock would be a bit upset with you." Lestrade tried to calm him. John took a deep breath and looked back at Sherlock.

"I know Greg, it's just...He looks so human! For once he doesn't seem like an alien. Good God, He's alive. he's not dead. We had a funeral, we all thought he was...dead. He was dead! He had no pulse.I talked to him when he was on that roof. He said goodbye...why would he say that if he planed on coming back?" John thought back to all Sherlock told him on the phone in his last minutes.

_"The newspapers were right all along. I want you to tell Lestrade, I want you to tell Mrs. Hudson and Molly, in fact tell anyone who will listen to you... that I created Moriarty for my own purposes...Nobody could be that clever...I researched you, Before we met I discovered everything I could to impress you. It's a trick. Its just a magic trick...keep your eyes fixed on me. Please, will you do this for me?...This phone call, it's...it's my 's what people do, don't they? Leave a note... Goodbye, John."_ The last two words killed him. His best friends last words. He memorized all of it, every word Sherlock said on that roof top. He wanted to remember Sherlock's last words.

John started to tear up, all the emotions from the past three years were hitting him at once. "Elp...erm...help me get him into the flat, so I can get a better look at his injuries." John moved to Sherlock's left side. Lestrade sighed, he saw how this was effecting John, how the emotions were effecting him, and yet somehow John was pushing all of them aside and was caring for his best friend John was right though,for the five years he worked with Sherlock, there was times when he didn't think he was human, But looking at the beaten and battered man lying on the floor of 221B, There was no doubting that Sherlock Holmes was, in fact Human. Lestrade smirked and moved to Sherlock's right, and together they carried him up the stairs.

* * *

"He's lost weight." John stated after they had Sherlock up in the flat and on the couch.

"quite a bit, it looks like." Lestrade added. John left him to go get his medical bag from his room so he could clean Sherlock's injuries. Lestrade stood there at the foot of the couch,staring at Sherlock as if he didn't believe he was seeing correctly. Just thee years ago he was at this man's funeral, just three years ago the yard had there first case without Sherlock-which did not get solved. There are multiple cases that remain unsolved because the perpetrator was too smart for them, they needed someone who was very clever, and the only person who is that clever, was dead at the time. So those cases remain unsolved.

"Who's Mycroft?" Lestrade asked when John returned, bag in hand.

"Mmmh...What? Oh He's Sherlock's older brother. He works for the government " John answered as he moved around Sherlock looking at his face. Checking the cuts and bruises. some of the cuts were partly healed, well others were fresh.

"Oh." Lestrade has known Sherlock for five years and not once has he mentioned an older brother.

John was just starting to clean the cuts on Sherlock's face when Sherlock's phone stated to ring. John reached into his torn coat pocket, grabbed the phone, and handed it to Lestrade, not even to bother to look who was calling.

"Hel..." Lestrade got cut off by the man yelling into the phone.

"Damn it, Sherlock! it has been a week! I told you I was only going to help you, if you stayed in contact with me! As much as you think that I don't care what happens to you. I do. I have had my men looking for you for the entire week, I do care about you, all though you like to think differently." The man was not yelling but talking loud. But he was talking loud enough that John could hear him, and John knew what ever Sherlock had gotten into was bad, very bad, if it involved this man.

"Uhh...who is this?" John stopped cleaning Sherlock's cuts and glanced at Lestrade. He knew the man on the phone, and he knew that the man would not tell some stranger who he was., not over the phone at lest.

"Who the hell is this? And where is Sherlock?" The man ask. He sounded generally concerned for Sherlock.

"This is Detective inspector Lestrade of Scotland yard, and as for Sherlock...he's...a bit busy. now answer my question. Who is this?" John stopped and motioned for the phone which Lestrade gladly handed over to him.

"Mycroft, it's John. Sherlock is here. uh... What exactly were you helping him with?"

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**A/N: what do you think? I know I ask this every time but no one really tells me! so please let me know the good, the bad, and the ugly! I want to get better, and I can only do that if I get told what I'm doing and and what I'm doing bad!**

**Also I put a little Lestrade/John friendship in, :)**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

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Sherlock had heard John telling him not to pass out, but he couldn't help it, he was in a lot of pain. He started to come too when he felt John hovering over him, staring at the multiple cuts and busies on his face. Then the alcohol that John was cleaning his injuries with really brought him too.

It was no surprise to him that his phone stated to ring. and even less of a surprise when he could hear Mycroft on the other end. The one thing that did surprise him was how calm John sounded on the phone. Not in any of the out comes he thought up, was John this calm, He didn't understand. Sherlock knew how upset Mycroft was and he knew how his brother would tear into John unless he talked to him. He really didn't feel up to talking right now, especially to Mycroft.

"Phone" Sherlock groaned and moved his hand out towards John. He really didn't want to talk to his brother, but he knew he had too. "Phone! Now John." this time in a more demanding voice. Both John and Lestrade turned and looked surprised that he was alive and talking.

"Uh...yeah. Here Mycroft, Sherlock wants to talk to you." John talked into the phone. He was shocked to hear Sherlock speak His mind was still telling him it was just a dream. A dream he could care less if he woke from. His hands shook as he handed the phone to over, deliberately touching Sherlock's fingers just to insure that his mind wasn't playing tricks on him. Sherlock took the phone and sat up, thinking nothing about John' s hands touching his. John tried to stop him from sitting all the way up, but to no avail.

"Mycroft, don't worry. I'm fine...more or less." Sherlock reassuringly told his older brother He paused "Yes I know..." pausing again to listen to what Mycroft was telling him. "Mycroft, yes...I...und" Mycroft kept interrupting him, making Sherlock mad. "MYCROFT! Shut up! Just shut up!" Sherlock yelled at his brother and jumped up off the couch. John and Lestrade tried to get him to sit back down, but Sherlock pushed them away, hissing in pain. "Yes I apologize. okay? Is that what you want? for me to say I'm sorry? because I'm really not! The situation I was in made it a bit hard to get to the phone..." He began to pace "That lot, they were bigger then the other two... took me by surprise...mmh.."

Sherlock was hissing in pain with every step he took. "No, Mycroft I'm fine. You know you could try to be a bit sympathetic, oh wait, no you can't. if you really want to know I was being held under my will for five days, so I really could not call you." his pacing was slowing and he looked like he was going to pass out again He really should not have got up so fast, if at all. John stood by the couch watching Sherlock like a hawk, not looking away from him for a second. Lestrade stood by the arm chair watching Sherlock, but also watching John. Noticing the way John looked like a father watching his son's first steps, ready to jump to catch him before he fell. _'John and Sherlock what a funny pair they are.'_ Lestrade thought he couldn't help but smile.

"Got me on a back street, came up from behind,..." Sherlock paused again. "If they weren't so dull, then I would have kept them around Mycroft!" He stopped pacing and was listening to what Mycroft was saying to him, none the less probably scolding him for going on his own. "mmh. yes...'m fine. Mycroft, if you don't believe me come here and see for yourself."Mycroft was talking again. and Sherlock getting dizzy. He took a deep breath " Fine! I'll go back with you, if that would make you happy." Sherlock Hung up on his brother and threw his phone onto the coffee table. He drew a deep breath, and sighed.

"Sherlock, why don't you sit down?" John offered and put a hand on Sherlock's upper arm. To his surprise Sherlock hissed and pulled his arm away. "Sherlock? Are you okay?" John asked hesitantly.

"mmmh? Yes." Sherlock half answered as he took a set on the couch, resting his elbows on his knees, putting his chin in the crook of his thumbs, thinking.

"I don't think you are." Lestrade was not convinced He sat in the arm chair across from the couch, and John took a seat in his arm chair. "Sherlock, are you even listening?" Lestrade felt his phone vibrating in his pocket, but he ignored it, for he was focused on Sherlock.

"Lestrade, are you going to get that? It's the most annoying." Sherlock told him, not moving. John smirked. How he missed the way Sherlock noticed everything.

"Right." Lestrade got up, retrieved his phone from his pocket. "I'll just go out into the hall."

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**A/N: I meant to post this yesterday, but I forgot! :\ again let me know what you think...**

**and yes I said John was acting like a father to Sherlock ;p**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6:

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When the door shut behind Lestrade, John looked at Sherlock "Why didn't you go to the hospital or your bother before you came here?" John asked him. "They could have helped you more then I can."

"I wanted to see _my_ Doctor." Sherlock smirked and John blushed "And besides I had enough of Mycroft in the last three years."

"Okay, then let me see your injuries." John told him. "And you can tell me what you have been doing while we thought you were dead." Sherlock sighed, he did owe John an explanation, but he did not want to do it know. He just wanted to relax but he knew John would not let him rest until he told him everything that happened.

"Okay John, but I cannot guarantee it will make much sense." Sherlock told John as he lend back on the couch. "On the roof with Moriarty..."

"Wait for Lestrade, Sherlock." John interrupted him as he got up off his chair and sat on the coffee table in front of Sherlock, reaching into his medical bag grabbing the gauze and alcohol to clean Sherlock's injuries They could hear Lestrade on the phone just outside the door. "This is going to hurt." John warned him before he put the alcohol on his cuts, but Sherlock didn't even flinch at the liquid. After a few moments of cleaning the cuts, John was concerned because Sherlock was not fazed by the alcohol in the cuts.

"Sherlock, Everything okay?" John asked concerned for his friend Sherlock didn't answer, he didn't even acknowledge the question. "Sherlock?" nothing. "Sherlock?!" John was scared, _what's wrong with him?_ "Sherlock? Can you hear me?" John asked shaking him.

"Mmh? Did you say something John?" Sherlock asked.

"yeah? Are you okay? You didn't move when I started to clean the cuts on your face, you kind of blanked out. I said your name three times and acted like you didn't hear me."

"Oh yeah, fine. Just thinking. Why didn't you change anything in here? Everything is like it was went I left."

"Well...erm...Mrs. Hudson and I couldn't. We couldn't forget about you. We thought if we changed anything, or remove any of your things we would forget about you, and we didn't want too." John was on the bink of tears.

"Oh John, You could never forget me." Sherlock smirked. Foot steps could be heard on the stairs outside the door and Lestrade could be heard talking to someone,but not on the phone, someone outside the door. Sherlock and John could hear the conversation Lestrade and the other person were having from their stops in the sitting room.

_"Ah who are you?"_ Lestrade could be heard asking the man.

_"You must be Detective Inspector Lestrade of Scott Land Yard if I'm not mistaking. Witch I rarely ever am." _Sherlock's older brother answered Lestrade.

"Ugh." Sherlock groaned when he heard Mycroft's answer. He really didn't want to see his brother right now. John had to smile, he missed the banter between the Holmes brothers. He continued to clean Sherlock's cuts, as he listened to the conversation that was happening outside the door.

_"And you must be Sherlock's brother, Mycroft, Correct? and I suppose you are here to see Sherlock."_

_"That would be correct, Mr. Lestrade." _Sherlock could picture Mycroft smile.

_"Right in here then."_ Lestrade said as he reached for the doorknob and opened the door.

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**A/N: Sorry this chapter was so short I have no idea how to continue from there in this chapter...so I'll start the next chapter soon. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry that the last two chapters have been shorter, but my mind has been on the crazy the last few weeks and this story is starting to come to a close and I don't know how and where I'm going to end it! :\ any ways please leave me a review! :)**


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